The morning brought more rain and black skies. It hadn’t been sunny for a week, which was good because the rain distracted people’s eyes and minds. Evil loves the darkness, and I was beginning to see why. I had dark chores ahead, and it was a lovely day for a murder.
The hardest past of writing a memoir is that the MC doesn't get to slip out of sticky situations. The events are set, they're done, and the chore is to somehow make the reader not hate you.
I think I do that well or I would have trunked this book a long time ago.
A shout out to my friends at Absolute Write. Without you guys, I'd be stuck with ego alone.
Wayne,
ReplyDeleteIt's insightful to read you, and how you were feeling within one precise moment. (Even though a memoir-writing is very much a reflection of one's mental state of being) It is wonderful to express oneself in whichever form one feels most at ease in, and you are doing it. :)
That's so nice of you to say. Thank you.
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